


Shut out from Truth by this Slight Barrier

by winternacht



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Curses, Developing Relationship, M/M, Mystery, Paranoia, Secrets, set in season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22761916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winternacht/pseuds/winternacht
Summary: Jon doesn't like Elias's suggestion to temporarily use the room adjacent to his office, but it could give him an opportunity to investigate a potentially cursed painting in Elias's possession.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 15
Kudos: 122
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Shut out from Truth by this Slight Barrier

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spacehopper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehopper/gifts).



> Title taken from a line in The Veiled Image at Sais by Friedrich von Schiller, translated by J. Merivale.

Artefact Storage wasn’t a place Jon often had to visit, and that usually suited him just fine. Keeping up the layers of protective scepticism had always been too difficult around items he knew had inflicted suffering on the persons coming in touch with them, whether by supernatural or mundane means, poisoning the atmosphere around them. But now it was almost a welcome relief. The tense but meaningful silence between Martin and Tim whenever he passed their desks was becoming too much for him to bear. He could no longer tell whether he had alienated them so terribly or whether there was a reason to distrust them after all. So he passed them without a word of where he was going and made his way to the door, feeling their stares follow him to the last step.

The most recent statement he’d recorded had referenced a painting that the statement giver, a contemporary of Jonah Magnus’s, had believed to be cursed. He’d set his eyes on it, just once, at his physician’s office. But once had been enough to haunt his dreams for weeks. According to Jon’s research, he had passed away mere days after composing the letter, though that could have also been due to the odd cough that had compelled him to consult his physician in the first place. Jon had expected that his research would yield no further results. But then he’d spotted the note that had been scribbled hastily onto the back of the folder: 003-A (T). Which meant that the painting had to be in Artefact Storage. He’d wondered, briefly, if Gertrude had left the note, but it seemed unlikely. The writing didn’t match hers and was rather faded. Besides, Artefact Storage had switched to four-digit codes in the first half of the 20th century, long before her time.

It was rare for a genuine artefact mentioned in a statement to actually be within reach. As far as Jon was aware, the match-up of artefacts with statements and vice versa had never been much of a concern, and it was certainly something he’d set his eyes on fixing, back when he’d started. Before his priorities had shifted. Before he’d even considered the possibility that this hadn’t been a mere oversight or a sign of incompetence.

But he couldn’t deny that he was curious about the painting. The statement giver hadn’t described it, reasoning that sharing that knowledge would only make matters worse. But surely, if it had hung in a physician’s office, many more people would have ended up in the same situation. Though for all Jon knew, it may very well have been the case, given the boxes of statements he hadn’t even managed to unearth yet. He didn’t actually want to look at it, of course. But he was hoping for a description at least. Maybe some backstory, drawn from a different statement.

The storage area was already abandoned for the evening when he entered, Jon’s steps echoing through the silence when he made his way to the computer catalogue. He wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or not. Some of the items were large and some of the areas half-encased by walls, providing many hiding places. And the hum of appliances could easily hide the sound of quiet steps or breathing. But nobody could have known that he’d planned to go there, so the likelihood of anyone trying to ambush him was low. With that in mind, he took a seat and tried to focus on his endeavour, tried to separate the prickling on his neck that could easily be due to the cold from the sensation of being watched.

The brief feeling of success when he found the painting under its new designation dissipated abruptly when he actually clicked on the entry. Yes, it was indeed in the Institute’s possession. But there was no description of it beyond its size. This should have been the end of his investigation, but he couldn’t quite let it rest.

The painting was located in one of the more central areas of the storage facilities, easily reachable, not locked away like other more dangerous items. Nothing was stopping him from seeking it out himself. But when he arrived there, there was no painting in sight. Not even a sign indicating that it had been taken to a different area or removed for research. And all that remained was an unacknowledged gap between the two items on either side. 

There was nobody around to ask. But maybe Elias was still in his office. After all, he was to be informed if any items were moved out of the storage area. Unless the items had been moved before his time, which, given the immaculate state of the empty space before him was not too unlikely.

At least in this regard, he was in luck. There was still light shining through the gap under the door to Elias’s office when he exited the elevator. It wasn’t much of a surprise, either. Elias always worked late, to the point that Jon couldn’t help wondering whether he had a room in the Institute as well, and where it might be. Then again, he lived within walking distance. It probably didn’t really make much of a difference to him. Though sometimes, Jon couldn’t help wondering if he’d always done that, or whether it had been a habit he’d picked up recently. He hadn’t been in a position to notice, before.

“Come in,” Elias called out from inside upon Jon’s knock. So he entered.

“There’s something I’d like to discuss with you,” Jon said. And froze halfway to Elias’ desk. On the wall to his right was a painting, covered by the same cloth that hid all the items too dangerous to look at from view in Artefact Storage. And the outline of the frame didn’t match the portrait that had previously been there. This was a landscape painting. And the longer Jon looked at it, the more certain he was it matched the dimensions of the painting from the statement.

“Of course, Jon,” Elias said calmly. “What’s the matter?”

“I-” Jon cut himself off. A voice in his head tried to tell him it was a silly thing to worry about. That there could be an entirely mundane reason. That perhaps Elias planned to unveil it to a generous donor, using the cover from Artefact Storage for convenience. It had no supernatural properties as far as Jon was aware. But in the past year, Jon had learned not to rely on mundane explanations, and the lesson was etched into his skin in dozens of scars that still itched ever so often. That were itching right at that moment, as Jon was trying to figure out why Elias could possibly have put a painting he had to know was dangerous in his office. Was that the reason that were no other statements about it? Had Elias hidden them, or even destroyed them? The last thought made Jon feel oddly queasy. But… he wouldn’t. Jon didn’t know where the certainty was coming from, but he was sure that Elias wouldn’t destroy statements. Perhaps there was another reason. That the painting had been covered until one hapless patient had been forced to set his eyes on it. And now, Jon realised, he needed to see it too. But he couldn’t let Elias know, because whatever motives he had, the fact that the painting was hanging in his office was certainly not a matter of coincidence.

“Yes?” Elias raised an eyebrow at him. Jon noticed that most of his things were already packed away.

“I wanted to talk to you about a statement,” he said, trying to remember the latest significant one. “Jordan Kennedy. He works for the ECDC and was tasked with… disposing of Jane Prentiss’s body.”

“Yes, I’m familiar with the situation; I’ve listened to the statement. Good work, by the way.”

A quick smile formed on Jon’s lips, but it slipped away again when he tried to figure out how to spin his story.

“Then you know he came across John Amherst. I wanted to ask you if you know more about him.”

Elias leaned back in his chair, eyes wandering as he took his time to think.

“As far as I’m aware, the last time he was seen was in Germany in 2013, after which he is rumoured to have passed away. No report of any activity since. And I, for one, can’t say I mind.”

“Me neither,” Jon said. But he found himself wondering if it could be true. He had survived immolation. Possibly twice. Maybe he had simply gone into hiding. And if he was similar to Jane Prentiss, could he be plotting against the Institute as well? Or against him.

“But you are right to worry about the situation,” Elias said. “Our sister institutes are of course monitoring the situation as well, so if there are any further statements, you will be among the first to know.”

“That’s- that’s good, thank you.” It was a genuine relief to hear. An attack against one of the Institutes would certainly be something they would all want to avoid.

“Of course. Now, is there anything else?”

Jon took a deep breath, forcing himself to keep his eyes on Elias and not let them stray to the painting.

“That was all.”

“Good.” He said it with such finality that Jon was about to excuse himself when Elias addressed him again. “How are you holding up, Jon?”

“Fine,” Jon said cautiously. “Why?”

“There have been more complaints, Jon. Sasha was not happy about having her access to Artefact Storage restricted, and Tim-”

“But you agreed it was a good idea!” There was always a certain risk when people got too attached to particular items. Some incidents had ended fatally.

“Yes. But it’s hardly a surprising turn of events, is it now?” Elias said patiently.

“Well, I suppose not,” Jon muttered. “And what about Tim?”

“Tim found a recorder in the break room.” Jon’s stomach twisted.

“So?”

“Jon…”

“I left it there by accident.” They had been spending more time in the break room in the past weeks. Finding excuses to leave when Jon entered. He couldn’t exclude the possibility that there was more going on than idle conversation.

Elias let out a heavy sigh. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

“In any case, it would be very much appreciated if you could try to keep your recording equipment in your office, in the future.”

“Fine,” Jon snapped. “Anything else I should be aware of?”

Elias stood and looked at him. His expression was calm, almost gentle in a way he hadn’t been looked at in a long time, and Jon’s chest suddenly felt tight, not allowing him more than shallow breaths that left him dizzy.

“I know these past months haven’t been easy for you, Jon. And I understand that you need more time.”

Jon didn’t like the sound of that; it had an air of a careful dance around a suggestion he was certain he wouldn’t like.

“If you are going to suspend me, I’d rather-”

“Always assuming the worst. No, I am not going to suspend you. However, I was going to suggest putting some distance between you and your assistants. Temporarily, of course.”

“And how exactly do you intend to go about that?”

Elias nodded towards the door to his right. “I use this room for confidential meetings. But you are very welcome to use it as an office space for the next couple of weeks.”

“You want to supervise me? That’s your idea?” Jon could hardly wrap his mind around it. He must have misheard.

“Think of it as an alternative to getting fired.”

“Fired!” He felt like he had been submerged in ice water. He couldn’t get fired. At the Institute, he was still in a position to protect himself. Or at least find out about what threats he was facing.

“Yes, Jon. But believe me when I say that I would very much prefer to avoid this. You are a very capable Archivist. But you are not my only employee. Besides, you will obviously receive a key for the outside door to the office, and you’re free to leave at any time. Though I recommend you avoid the Archives during your assistants’ working hours.”

The suggestion alone was an insult. But as Jon spun the thought further, he had to admit to himself it didn’t need to have only downsides. Elias was still one of his suspects, after all. And having such easy access to his office freely was certainly an opportunity to gather evidence, as long as he was careful about it. He glanced at the hidden painting. And if nothing else, there was one mystery he would certainly be able to reveal.

“Fine,” he said with a resigned sigh. And hoped he didn’t sound too eager.

* * *

Jon adapted to the new routine with a speed that surprised him. But he had to admit, the distance felt good. He still communicated with the others, but mostly via mail or text. And while the tone remained on the cool side, the conversations didn’t escalate into fights. And it was somewhat easier to focus on his work when he didn’t have to worry about what the others were doing just outside his office door. He still worried about Elias, of course. But contrary to what Jon had expected, Elias was hardly looking over his shoulder the entire time. He was given so much freedom that he nearly felt ignored. Or would have, if Elias hadn’t been present all the time. Not allowing him a single opportunity to inspect his office. And the door between their offices remained closed after hours and during breaks.

But even when he entered, always with something on hand to have a plausible reason to enter in the first place, Elias remained focused on his own work, not acknowledging Jon with more than a nod when he placed documents or tapes on his desk, and certainly not acknowledging his suspicious glances. Sometimes, Jon lingered a little longer than necessary, trying to catch a glimpse of anything noteworthy.

He didn’t actually find any evidence, but at some point, Elias started explaining the schedules and budget tables to him. Hardly information Jon was terribly interested in, but he did listen attentively when Elias talked about the donors. He had to know about what the Lukases did. Surely, he had to know the statements weren’t fake. Not these ones.

Jon never dared ask overtly, but he still found himself enjoying the small details Elias relayed to him, even if they always left him guessing how much Elias actually knew. And eventually he stopped coming up with excuses to enter his office. Elias always seemed to welcome him, either way.

* * *

“Would you mind leaving the door open while you’re recording statements?”

Jon gave Elias a confused look over the cup of tea Elias had brought him. “I thought it would bother you.”

“Not at all. Besides, it is more efficient that way, don’t you think?”

Initially, Jon felt odd about it. He wasn’t used to anyone listening in while he recorded statements. And it certainly kept him from recording supplements until the evening, when he returned his work to the Archives after his assistants had left. But he had to admit he minded less and less with each passing day. Besides, he enjoyed having someone to discuss the statements with.

* * *

“End recording.” A violent shudder ran down Jon’s spine, as though the feeling had waited for him to finish talking. Of course the details couldn’t be verified in any way. Every word he’d spoken had been laced with the icy cold of the cave.

“What do you think?” Jon asked, looking at Elias, who was sat next to him on the sofa in Elias’s office. “How did the letter end up in Jonah Magnus’s collection?”

Elias hummed thoughtfully, moving closer so he could inspect the letter himself. His long fingers moved across the singed paper so delicately, though now Jon wondered why he’d even taken it out in the first place. Somehow, it had felt right to read it while tracing the actual words, the ridges left behind in the paper. “Unfortunately, we can only guess.”

“Well?”

“Perhaps someone who had been better prepared sought shelter in that cave. And either knew Jonah himself or came across someone who knew him.”

“How lucky for him.”

“Do you have a better explanation, then?”

Jon thought about it. If he was honest, at this point, it almost seemed more likely to him that the letter had simply appeared on Magnus’s desk by virtue of being a horrific tale about a young couple meeting its demise under dreadful, paranormal circumstances than a mundane explanation that relied on a series of coincidences.

“Maybe Eustace Wick wasn’t as dead as she thought,” he mused.

“He wouldn’t have starved, in any case,” Elias remarked drily.

“I suppose not,” Jon said, his insides twisting uncomfortably at the thought. And he was suddenly very glad that he wasn’t alone, after all. That he could feel someone’s warmth next to him, the silence between them comfortable and calming.

Jon carefully put the letter back into the folder and leaned back, his shoulder brushing against Elias’s. Elias didn’t move away. So neither did Jon.

Until the phone on Elias’s desk rang, and Jon shied away from Elias, squeezing himself against the arm rest. As though the person on the other end of the line would somehow know that… well. What was there to know, really? But the more Jon thought about it, the less he wanted to. It had been nothing. It couldn’t have been anything.

He didn’t pick up a single word from Elias’s conversation, starting at the sound of him setting down the receiver again.

“Looks like I’m needed in the library,” Elias said. “There was a shipment today I wanted to take a look at after it was sorted out,” he added in response to the curious look Jon gave him. “Let’s continue our conversation later?” He put on his suit jacket and left the room at a brisk pace. The door fell shut behind him, and Jon was alone in the office. He sank back into the sofa, his heart beating fast, and let his gaze sweep across the room.

The painting was gone.

Jon took a deep breath, though his lungs refused to expand. When had the painting been removed from the wall? He tried to remember if he’d seen it the previous day. Or the day before. He was certain it had still been in Elias’s office at the beginning of the week.

But it didn’t have to mean anything, he tried to remind himself. After all, they’d never even talked about it once, though Jon couldn’t quite tell if the reason for that was that Elias had been avoiding the topic just as strenuously as Jon had himself. Or perhaps he suffered from its curse himself, and now tried to find the answer in a book, just like Mike Crew had. Whatever the case, he needed an answer. And he would start looking for it in Elias’s office.

But when he tried to get up, he found himself rather unwilling to move. Weeks ago, he’d itched to take a closer look. Now he wasn’t so sure. But he couldn’t allow himself to lose sight of what he had to do. He needed to gather evidence. To protect himself and the others, if they were uninvolved. But his stomach twisted oddly at the thought of going through Elias’s drawers, just like it had when he’d stood before Tim’s house. When he’d followed Sasha during lunch. All necessary. And yet.

Determined, he pushed himself to his feet. He had to focus on the painting. Whatever else he needed, it could be connected to it. It was significant in some way, he was sure of that. All he had to do was to find it.

When Jon couldn’t find it hidden in Elias’s office and didn’t find anything else that arose his suspicions, he decided to return to Artefact Storage. If the reasons for keeping the painting in his office had truly been harmless, then the likelihood of it being back where it belonged was quite high. He navigated the abandoned area, circling around when he didn’t find it to make sure it hadn’t simply been placed elsewhere. But that didn’t seem to be the case. Every other item was accounted for as far as he could tell, and none of them matched what he’d seen in Elias’s office. Maybe it hadn’t been the same one after all. But he knew there was something about it.

Jon paused, trying to think about his next steps. Going back to Elias’s office was the best call, perhaps. Though maybe he’d now already wasted too much time, and Elias was back again. He pushed onward despondently, looking around carefully on his way to the exit. In one corner there sat a calliope, polished so neatly that he could see his reflection in it as he approached it, shivering at its sight, fancying he could already hear the music. _Faster, Faster_ , wasn’t that what Leanne Denikin had called her grandfather’s tune? A feeling of apprehension that quickly turned into fear when he heard the door open.

As quietly as he could, he slipped behind a nearby cupboard, his heart hammering in his throat. It could be someone who’d simply forgotten their bag or their keys. And the area was large enough that they might not even cross paths.

But that hope died quickly when he saw a figure approach. In the dim light, it took him a couple of moments to recognise Sasha. Sasha, whose access was still restricted. He decided to wait before he revealed himself. Just to find out what she was looking for. It couldn’t have been the desk, which was located on the other side of the room. Perhaps she had already spotted him. But to his relief, she simply stopped before the calliope.

He was just about to step forward and confront her when he noticed her reflection on the polished metal. An elongated thing that barely looked human, leering menacingly. Jon pressed a hand to his mouth to avoid making noise. He watched Sasha run a finger over the keys, not pressing down, not eliciting the slightest sound. And her hands looked normal. Her reflection looked normal again. But the thing he’d seen…

Sasha seemed content with her discovery and left again. Jon waited until he heard the door close before letting his hand drop down, finally allowing himself to take a deep breath. Then he ran towards the other exit which lead to the back entrance to the Institute. All the while he tried to listen for any noise, creaking floorboards, any sign that Sasha was following him, but all he heard was the echo of his own footsteps. Cool air hit him when he exited the Institute, and he wondered if his jumper would be enough to keep him warm. Right now, it would simply have to be. He simply couldn’t stay inside for one more second. And maybe that was exactly what needed now to clear his head.

He walked down the streets aimlessly, peering over his shoulder ever so often. But he wasn’t being followed. And as he walked, the guilt started to set in. Perhaps the dim light and the curvature of the calliope’s surface had played a trick on his eyes. And suddenly he felt foolish, to have overreacted in such a way. And Tim had mentioned doing research into the circus recently. Perhaps he had asked her to take a look at the item. But the more he tried to convince himself of that, the more it sounded like an excuse to him. And if he could no longer rely on his own senses, then what could he rely on?

By the time he noticed it had started to rain, it was already too late. There was a bus stop shelter just down the street, but when he finally managed to hurry inside, his clothes were already soaked, hanging off him heavy with water. At least the shelter was blessedly empty. The bus must have come by just a little earlier. But it was a welcome distraction. Drawing his focus away from Sasha and the calliope as he examined his surroundings, trying to figure out where he was. He recognised the bus line, at least. It stopped close to the Institute, but Jon had never taken it further than that. He was just two stops away. But his wallet was in the inside pocket of his jacket. So he had no choice but to sit there and wait for the rain to stop. At least the area felt somewhat familiar.

His fingers grew numb soon, even as he tried to pull his sleeves over his hands. Every gust of wind burned like frost against his wet cheeks. Trying to wipe them dry with his sleeves only seemed to shift the water around. And out in the open like that, he felt so exposed and vulnerable beneath the rain that hammered ruthlessly against the roof of the shelter, the sound reverberating in his bones.

He looked up when he heard familiar footsteps approach. The legs of his trousers were soaked, but the rest of him looked more or less dry under his umbrella.

“Elias,” Jon said weakly. Wasn’t that just his luck. Had Elias now followed him too? But somehow, his presence didn’t alarm him quite as much as it perhaps should have. Quite the contrary, he had to admit himself. And suddenly, he was glad his legs felt frozen and leaden. It was all that kept him from getting up and doing something he was sure to regret.

“What are you doing here, Jon?”

“I went on a walk and got surprised by the rain,” he said. It wasn’t even a lie. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“I live nearby,” Elias said. That must have been why the area seemed so familiar to Jon. He’d been there before just a few weeks ago. “And you don’t, as far as I know.”

Jon tensed at his words, unsure of whether he was voicing a suspicion that wouldn’t even have been warranted in this case, but relaxed slightly when Elias continued. “So why don’t you join me for a cup of tea? You look like you could use it.”

“It’s all right,” Jon said. The chattering of his teeth betrayed him as he spoke.

“Please, Jon, I insist,” Elias said, a slight note of exasperation in his voice. And Jon found he was simply too exhausted to fight about this. Besides, he’d been curious about how Elias lived.

“Fine,” he said and stood, his legs shaking. Elias opened his umbrella and motioned for Jon to join him.

“I really don’t think it can get any worse,” Jon said with a shake of his head, his cheeks heating slightly.

“Then it won’t do any harm, either.”

Acquiescing, Jon trudged along, arms wrapped around himself for warmth, walking about half an arm’s length away so that he was still mostly exposed to the rain.

“You might want to come a little closer,” Elias said with a hint of amusement.

“Are you sure you want me to get your suit all wet?” Jon asked, edging just a little closer, hoping that Elias would find it enough. 

Elias sighed. “I don’t mind.” And before Jon knew it, Elias had already wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer until their bodies met. Jon was so surprised he nearly tripped over his own feet.

“There,” Elias said, relaxing his hold, just enough for Jon to slip out of it if he wanted to. He stayed, even as Elias’s arm slid to his waist, his heart hammering all the way to Elias’s flat, the sound of the rain and the chill of the wind fading from his perception. All he could focus on was Elias. The gentle pressure of his fingers, the scent of his cologne.

Once inside the building, Jon stepped away from him, hoping his reddened cheeks, which he spotted in the elevator mirror, could be explained by the cold.

Elias’s flat was pleasantly warm. He told Jon to make himself comfortable while he got everything ready. Jon nodded, letting himself drop down onto the soft leather sofa in his wet clothes after some hesitation. He was a little surprised at how modern and airy the interior was; he’d assumed it would be closer to what his office looked like, wood panelling and solid furniture. On a clear day, he was sure the view would be breath-taking. Though it still was, now that he was safely inside.

“I’ve prepared a change of clothes for you in the bathroom,” Elias said as he returned. “Feel free to use the shower if you need it.”

“Thank you,” Jon said, a little surprised. He briefly considered rejecting that offer, but he could hardly deny that he would feel better in some dry clothes. Jon rose and followed Elias into the corridor, where he pointed out the bathroom to him. Then he left Jon to his devices.

Jon was eager to take off the damp sweater. It stuck to the shirt he wore underneath, which in turn stuck uncomfortably against his skin, making his scars itch uncomfortably, bringing memories to the forefront he preferred to keep buried.

He did opt for a quick shower, just to wash away that horrible, sticky feeling. The scent of Elias’s body wash distracted him, kept him from lingering on thoughts of worms and calliopes for too long. But he wasn’t sure if it was a good trade-off. It was familiar in a way that twisted inside him, that made him ache for closeness and wish to run away.

Jon rinsed himself off as well as he could and stepped out of the shower. After drying himself, he slipped into the clothes Elias had prepared for him. Soft trousers, a simple shirt and a pullover, slightly too large on his frame, but comfortable nevertheless. It wasn’t something he’d seen Elias wear around the Institute before, where he usually just opted for a suit. 

After towelling his hair dry enough, Jon stepped out into the corridor. From the kitchen, he could the quiet clanking of dishes, probably Elias getting their tea ready. He was just about to go to him when he walked past the open bedroom door. He paused, hesitating for a moment. But then curiosity won over, and he peered inside.

The painting hung on the wall opposite Elias’s bed, covered still in its dark grey shroud. To find it here of all places… Jon’s heart beat faster, and he glanced towards the living room. This was his chance to find out what Elias was hiding.

He slipped quietly into the room, stepping closer to the painting. There was something magnetic about it, no matter how well it was covered. Like a whisper calling to him. He traced a curve over the cloth, stalling, when he’d already made his decision. He had to look at it. His fist tightened the soft material, and with one swift motion, he pulled the cover off.

The sight was underwhelming in the simplicity of its subject. He’d expected some hellish scene that would have surpassed the works of Hieronymus Bosch, or some geometrical nightmare. Instead, it was just a depiction of an eye, stretching across a background in hues of dark blue, brushed against the canvas in coarse strokes. Smaller eyes were dotted around it like stars. From the distance, it might have simply looked like the night sky, aesthetically pleasing, if a little banal. But from close up, it was stunning. Familiar, though Jon couldn’t begin to guess where he might have seen this sight before, that deep, hungry void of the pupil that drew him closer still. He reached out towards it with a trembling hand, shying away before he could have touched it, not that he was even supposed to.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Jon jumped as he heard the voice behind him, whirling around. “Why do you have this?” he asked sharply. Elias’s eyes widened slightly. Then he stepped closer with a pleased smile Jon couldn’t place. But there was something about the way he looked at Jon that reminded him of the painting behind him. The same intensity in his eyes that he couldn’t look away from.

“Would you like to know the history of this painting, Jon?” He gestured towards it, and while it wasn’t the answer Jon was looking for, he turned back to it, nodding. He could still feel Elias’s gaze burning against his neck, and shivered. He felt pinned, the sensations around him only intensifying each other, his breathing quickening. Elias put his hands on Jon’s shoulder, a grounding touch. Pulling him closer and holding him through the moments of stiffness until Jon relaxed against his chest. Elias’s breathing was calm and measured, and Jon tried to match it. He wondered if Elias could feel his heart fluttering in his ribcage.

“Jonah Magnus commissioned it as a gift for a friend of his, Jonathan Fanshawe. Though he provided the charcoal sketch of the eye in the centre himself. Here.” He took Jon’s hand and guided it towards the eye, letting him trace the curved outline with his fingertips, all the ridges and bumps of the paint.

“What happened then?” Jon asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Jonah wanted Fanshawe to become his Archivist. But unfortunately, he never ended up working for him. They had some disagreements, you see. But Fanshawe still kept the painting to his dying day.”

“In his practice,” Jon added.

“Yes, precisely. But after he passed away, the painting returned to Jonah.”

“But isn’t it…” Jon swallowed around the word. It must sound ridiculous. And yet, he could feel it was no ordinary painting. “Cursed?”

Jon curled his fingers anxiously when Elias guided them to the pupil in the centre, then stretched them out again. The paint felt so smooth there. He felt oddly awed, to be allowed to touch it like that, even as his skin broke out in goose bumps.

“There is a reason it’s covered, yes,” Elias said with a quiet laugh. “But I haven’t suffered any ill-effects from looking at it, and neither have my predecessors.”

“But the statement said-”

“Statement givers are fallible, sometimes. Making the wrong connections, convincing themselves of their truthfulness. Some of the artefacts are locked away simply as a precaution.”

“There is something about it,” Jon insisted, turning back to Elias again. He could feel the heat of the painting at his back. The heat in Elias’s gaze.

“And what would that be?”

“It’s… it’s like you,” Jon said, breathless.

“And like you,” Elias said quietly. He lowered his lips onto Jon’s, so gently, but Jon could feel his hunger underneath, could feel an eagerness inside himself he couldn’t place. Elias pulled back when Jon started responding and left him to chase after his lips before he caught himself.

“What does this mean?”

“It’s not something I can tell you, Jon.”

“Why not?” Jon clung to him, as if he could pull the answer out of him as Elias let his hands wander down Jon’s back and up again tracing his spine. “Tell me!” For a brief moment, there was a sharp tension between them, thrumming in the air. And Elias’s hands tightened in his pullover. Until the connection violently snapped, and Jon dropped forward, his knees giving out. 

Elias caught him in his arms easily, holding him close, with an arm around his waist and a hand at the back of his head, fingers gently curling into his hair.

“It’s more rewarding to figure it out on your own,” he said.

It wasn’t a satisfying answer, but Jon felt too drained to protest. “I’m tired,” he mumbled against Elias’s shoulder.

“Then rest,” Elias said gently.

Jon’s eyes fell shut, and he followed to where Elias started guiding him with a firm hold around his torso. The bed was barely a couple of steps away, but even those took so much effort. He couldn’t understand what had happened.

Elias set him down onto the bed gently, sitting down behind him. With a last push of strength, Jon twisted onto his back and forced his eyes open. He looked directly into Elias’s eyes and allowed himself to sink into the depths of his gaze. Elias lay down beside him, and all Jon could do was edge just a little closer before he drifted off.

* * *

Jon awoke the way he had fallen asleep, curled up in Elias’s arms. His face burned as he shifted away, his first instinct to run, to berate himself for whatever had driven him to follow Elias home. But as Jon looked at Elias’s sleeping form, he couldn’t help marvelling at the display of trust. Of vulnerability. It soothed Jon’s worry about putting himself in such a position, and he relaxed again, letting his head sink down into the pillow as he watched Elias. His eyes were twitching rapidly behind their lids. Was he dreaming about the eye in the painting? But there was something so serene about the way he looked, his features relaxed. Surely, if there had been a curse… 

Jon pushed himself up on his elbows and looked at the painting, at the eye that stared down at him. It had appeared in his dreams too, hazy as the image was when he tried to conjure it in his mind. Though now he was sure that he had seen it before. He knew it had frightened him. And still, Jon couldn’t tell if his dream had been a nightmare or not.


End file.
